Reunion
by Jav-chan
Summary: Moments from death his presence was all she needed. R/C


This is a drabble that may continue in the form of reincarnation fic; I haven't decided yet. This will follow the manga and not the anime, since I prefer that ending and this wouldn't exist otherwise. Enjoy.

* * *

**Reunion**

**

* * *

**

Her breath comes in labored gasps and the pain that grips her is nearly overbearing to the point of distraction. It is only through a sheer force of will alone that Rosette is able to stay conscious. Terror threatens to override everything as she struggles to take deep, even breaths like Elizabeth told her.

_This is nothing new. _She tells herself. _You knew this was coming. This was the price that you were willing to pay._

But something inside her is screaming—_this isn't how it was supposed to be! _When she died Joshua and Az were supposed to be there. She isn't supposed to die _alone_ in an empty chapel. Even as she tries to call out for her brother and Azmaria something in her is screaming, crying for someone else who should be here with her, and isn't. Tears fall down her cheeks, hot and fast, as the reality hits her that she has been waiting fruitlessly for him to return to her.

_He isn't going to make it._

_Chrno.._

She tries to stop the tears, knowing that it is only making the stress on her body worse. But there is a gaping, black pit clawing at her at the thought of _never_ seeing the one who has always been a constant. That makes it more painful than the way her muscles spasm and her heart contracts.

It isn't supposed to be this way! She isn't supposed to die before she sees him again.

Rosette crawls along the floor, her golden hair sticky against her neck, as she tries to futilely fight against the coldness that is gripping her even more. She can hardly see anything, what hasn't been blurred by tears is now dimming as oblivion creeps along the edge of her vision.

Time seems to stand still for a moment when the heavy creak of the chapel doors swinging open reaches her ears, and she looks up, her breathing harsh. Her heart skips in a way that has nothing to do with her fit at the familiar indigo hair. Tired eyes the color of burnished garnets are staring at her as he enters the building, his steps halting.

She doesn't speak, even though she is crying his name over and over in her head—_ChrnoChrnoChrnoChrnoChrno_—and then she is standing, her muscles screaming in protest even as pain continues to rack her body. Through sheer will alone she is able to stagger to her feet. Then she is running, her cotton shawl falling from her shoulders as her hair flows behind.

She hasn't moved like this in years, but none of this matters because he is moving towards her—_Oh God_—and she throws her arms over his shoulders even as she struggles to breathe.

Chrno wraps his good arm around her waist—she hardly notices how his right arm is only half an arm and is wrapped in filthy, bloody bandages—and he pulls her tightly to his chest.

His dark hair is soft, almost like silk when compared to the gritty filth of his clothing, and she wonders where he has been all this time—why has it taken him so long—and she whispers his name in a breathless mantra.

Rosette clings to him tighter. The pain is getting worse and soon she knows that she won't be able to breathe. Yet, somehow all of this seems insignificant, because he is holding her and she feels content and knows that all of her waiting hasn't been in vain. Chrno shifts his hold on her and his dirty fingers are smudging dirt on her pale skin as he cups her cheek tenderly.

His tired eyes are filled with pain because he knows what is coming just as acutely as she does. There is regret there in his gaze, perhaps because it has taken so long for him to return, but she doesn't care, she is just so _happy_ to see him. Her eyes flutter shut in almost bliss when he whispers her name. The sound is like a soothing caress and she doesn't mind the smudge of dirt that he is leaving on her skin as his thumb traces her cheek briefly before his hand finally rests on the line of her throat.

Then his lips are covering hers and it is gentle and tender and sweet, and one of her last thoughts is that there can't possibly be a better way to die.


End file.
